


The Kings and the Beautiful Glorfindel

by jaydee09



Series: Two Kings [55]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: A legendary warrior, Anal Sex, Angst, Everybody gets a celebrity crush, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masses of sexy hair, Oral Sex, Pearling and Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:08:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8124739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydee09/pseuds/jaydee09
Summary: After a whole run of fraught, standalone Thorinduil stories about slavery and stuff, here’s a funnier one, complete in itself –  still interspersed with hurt/comfort to satisfy those who like a bit of angst.  Glorfindel, brightest and best of Elrond’s elven warriors, is kept close to his lord’s side because he is far too sweet-natured and, more importantly, far too beautiful, to be let loose on a wicked world, LOL!  So, what happens when he arrives in Mirkwood on a trip from Rivendell?  What will the reaction of the dwarven and elven ladies be?  And, how will Thranduil and Thorin respond to him?  Oh, dear!





	

 

 

.o00o.

 

**My previous story to this is _The Kings and the Sacrificial Victim_ , the last of a run of four about Thranduil’s kidnap and enslavement to a prince of Umbar.  And the very first story in this series of more than 5o Thorinduil stories is _King of the Antlered Throne_.  They can all be read as standalone episodes but have an over arcing story-line.**

**.o00o.**

 

The Kings and the Beautiful Glorfindel

 

Pt I

 

It was Thorin’s turn to spend a few weeks in Mirkwood: but a dwarven king’s work is never done and he had had to drag a whole load of paperwork with him from Erebor.  Now, he was in the library, working his way through a pile of letters, whilst Thranduil tackled an equally demanding pile of his own.

 

They were sitting with their backs to each other, all the better to ignore any distractions the other might offer.  If they sat facing each other across a table, then Thranduil would flick back his platinum hair in that sensuous way of his and Thorin would stare at his partner with those deep blue eyes through long, sooty lashes.  Not much work got done under such circumstances.

 

Thorin let out a weary sigh.  He hated paperwork and, if he were back in Erebor, he might have called in his efficient servant, John, to help clear the decks.  He gave a quick, surreptitious glance over his shoulder and saw that Thranduil was working away at his pile of letters at top speed.

 

“Stop looking at me,” said the elven king.  “You put me off my stroke.” And he placed yet another finished document in his out tray.

 

“Don’t work so fast,” snapped Thorin.  “You’ll finish before me and then I’ll have to work on my own.”

 

Thranduil rolled his eyes but then he said patiently: “Would you like a drink?  Would it help if I fetched you one?”

 

“What I would actually like,” replied the dwarf bad-temperedly, “is a good, hard fuck.”

 

“You should have said before,” grinned the elven king, sweeping his papers to one side.  And, standing, he began to unbutton his shirt and breeches.

 

“Where would you like it?  Over the library table?” he offered.

 

“No,” said Thorin with a shudder, remembering a rather unfortunate incident from their past.  “Not the table.”

 

“Well, how about on the floor, or astride my lap or up against the wall?”  The choices were endless.

 

“A lap is always nice,” laughed Thorin.  And he tore off his clothes and sat on his lover’s lap, wriggling to get into a good position.  Seeing the dwarven king naked, in all his very un-elven beauty, was always a magical stimulus for Thranduil and his stiff erection immediately began probing Thorin’s backside.  The dwarf wriggled some more then sighed with relief as the tip found entry.

 

“Much better than answering all those wretched letters,” he panted, moving up and down along the elf’s length.

 

“Just hang on a minute,” Thranduil suddenly said, swinging Thorin backwards and reaching for something on the floor. 

 

“Just hold that angle,” Thorin gasped, closing his eyes.  “That feels amazing!  Harder!  Harder!”

 

But, the elf ignored him and, returning to his upright position, began to unfurl the document he had found on the floor with one hand whilst still thrusting away at Thorin steadily with his silken cock.

 

“Nearly missed this,” he said, breathing heavily.  “Rolled under the table.  Letter from Elrond.”  He just about managed to get it out.

 

“Who cares?!” panted Thorin in disbelief, desperately trying to work his way to a climax.

 

“Might be important,” responded his beloved, digging deeper as the sensations intensified, but reading the parchment over the dwarf’s shoulder.  “I can multi-task,” he gasped, desperately trying to suck in air.

 

“By Mahal, Thranduil!  If you don’t put that down…….!” yelled Thorin, urgently working himself against the elf’s swollen prick.

 

He was nearly there, but, suddenly, the elven king stopped all movement and dramatically lost his erection.  It just shrivelled and died at the most inopportune moment, leaving Thorin high and dry with nothing to rub against.  He grabbed his own swollen cock in a comforting gesture and snapped: “Well, there’d better be a good explanation!”

 

“Elrond’s coming,” said his beloved in dismay.

 

“And it’s a pity I’m not,” was the frustrated response.  “Now just put that down and start thinking about fucking me!”  And he began to rub his backside frantically against a very limp member.

 

“He’s bringing Glorfindel,” was the added information.

 

Thorin stood up and pulled Thranduil’s face into his crotch.  “Who’s he?” he muttered, not really in the least bit interested.

 

“Elrond’s best warrior,” the elven king managed to get out before his lover thrust an extremely engorged member down his throat.  And then there were only grunts and groans for the next five minutes until the desperate dwarf finally came.

 

His breathing fast and shallow, Thorin collapsed back down on Thranduil’s lap.  “A famous warrior, eh?” he managed to get out.  “Well, I’m sure I shall be very pleased to meet him.”

 

“That’s what I’m worried about,” was his true love’s cryptic response.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt II

 

Thorin had a little doze on Thranduil’s shoulder.  The elf ran a gentle hand over his tangled hair and down a bulging arm.  Such features usually made his prick into a column of marble but, thinking of Glorfindel had only encouraged its collapse.

 

He had first met the elf lord years ago at Elrond’s court when he had been a young prince.  He had been stunned.  Glorfindel’s beauty shone like a radiant light about him and he bent his sweet smile on all who approached him.

 

“You’d never believe how old he is,” Thranduil’s father had murmured in his ear.  And, no, he wouldn’t.  Amazingly, he had been born in the First Age and yet his face was youthful, fair and fearless and full of joy.  And his golden hair hung in shining masses about his strong shoulders.  As he had gazed upon him, Thranduil had realised that he wasn’t breathing.

 

Of course, the young prince of Mirkwood had heard of him: for he was a great, legendary hero of Middle-earth.  In the First Age, he had fought with a Balrog and had been dragged down with him into the lowest depths.  But, in the Second Age, because of his courage and valour, he had been returned from the Halls of Mandos to Middle-earth.  No wonder, Thranduil thought, that a light seemed to shine through him and about him.

 

And like a puppy, he had followed him around, unable to tear his eyes away from that face and form.  It was a burning infatuation and, all he could think of was Glorfindel.  He wanted to kiss every part of him: his nose, his lips, his belly, his cock - his toes, even.  He would have given away everything and anything if he could only have held him in his arms and thrust his own cock inside him, just the once.

 

Glorfindel tried to be kind to the youth who always seemed two steps behind him when he turned around but this only stoked the fires of Thranduil’s passion.  The prince was in danger of making a fool of himself when Elrond had finally taken him on one side.

 

“Now stop being so silly and grow up!” he was told sharply.  “Everyone is noticing your foolish behaviour and they’re laughing at you.  Even Glorfindel, for all his sweet nature, thinks you’re an idiot.”  (This was said with fingers crossed behind his back – Glorfindel would never be so unkind.)  “He’s merely an elf who was lucky enough to be born with a better arrangement of his features than you or I.  Nothing more special than that!  So, just stop this foolish adulation!”

 

It was as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him.  Suddenly, he saw himself as others were seeing him – even the kindly Glorfindel was laughing at him.  And, after the elf lord had made a few more cutting remarks, he had stumbled from the room, never to look again upon the great hero with love and longing.

 

Elrond had sighed.  You had to be cruel to be kind with these young people, otherwise his lovely warrior would be followed by a whole trail of them, sighing and mooning around and wanting to screw him.  The great elven hero needed some protection from such infatuation.

 

But, from that day, Thranduil had recognised the power of the elf lord’s magnetism and mind-blowing beauty which is why he wasn’t especially thrilled at the thought of Thorin meeting him and he couldn’t keep it up when he thought about the awful possibilities.

 

.o00o.

 

The following day, as recompense for letting Thorin down,  Thranduil was on all fours in his un-favourite position – ‘these marble floors are a bit hard on the knees’ – whilst the dwarf thrust into him cheerfully from behind.  At least he had managed to get it up today and his member now twitched stiff and swollen against his belly – until Thorin began to talk about Elrond’s visit.

 

“Are you going to have a bit of a do, then?” the dwarven king huffed and puffed, letting his enthusiasm carry him away a bit.

 

“Well, yes, I think we ought to, don’t you?” Thranduil grunted rhythmically, thinking that a hard prick up his backside was almost sufficient compensation for a hard floor.  “I was wondering if your Company would like to come – it would be nice for them to meet Elrond again after all this time.”  And he began to push harder and faster against the dwarf’s penetration as he sensed a climax building in the distance.

 

Thorin banged away faster too, leaning forward to nuzzle into the alabaster neck and bite the pointy ear.  “What’s this Glorfindel like?” he gasped, fiddling with the elf’s nipples.

 

Disaster!  Thranduil began to slow his speed and his movements became jerky.  “Well, he’s a warrior,” he muttered.

 

“And?” asked Thorin.

 

 _Go on, say it, say it!_ the elf told himself.  “And, he’s very beautiful.”  His cock was shrinking by the moment – lucky that Thorin hadn’t noticed and wasn’t dependent upon it for his ride.  Instead, he thrust harder.

 

“What?” he panted.  “More beautiful than you?”

 

“Yes,” said the elf shortly.  “A lot more.”

 

Thorin chuckled salaciously.  “Mmm, looking forward to seeing that, then.”  And he climaxed profusely up the elven king’s behind.  Then he collapsed upon the floor, his chest heaving, failing to notice that his partner hadn’t followed his lead.  “Aaah,” he moaned jokingly.  “This Glorfindel seems to be having a very positive effect upon my libido.”  And, within moments, he had curled up in a ball and was fast asleep.

 

Thranduil lay there glumly on the cold floor, sensing an approaching disaster.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt III

 

A month later, a small party of dwarves was gathered together with Thorin in Mirkwood, waiting for Elrond and his entourage.  The members of the Company, in particular, were looking forward to seeing him again and they laughed and chattered together as they remembered their chaotic invasion of Rivendell, the elf lord’s tolerance of them and his help in translating Thorin’s map.  The young Prince Thorin along with the dwarven ladies, Brangwyn and Bris, were excited at the thought of their first encounter with him and a rather grumpy Dain sulked in a corner.  He didn’t especially want to be there but he had been invited and he hadn’t wanted to miss out on an important occasion.  Little Durin was also there, wide-eyed at the wonder of it all and being much more sociable than his grandfather.

 

A silver trumpet sounded and they all dashed up onto the battlements in order to catch the first glimpse of Elrond approaching through the forest.  And there he was, looking very elegant as usual in his wonderful elven armour.  His black horse was a fiery steed to be proud of but, next to him, there prinked and pranced an amazing creature, the legendary Asfaloth, whose white mane and tail almost swept the ground.  _And if_ , snarled Thranduil to himself, _its rider’s hair was much longer, it would have swept the ground too._

“Whoah, there!” exclaimed Bris, sounding as if the breath had been driven out of her.  “Now there’s a sight!  I wouldn’t mind a piece of that!”

 

“I presume,” said Thorin primly but with a very wide grin, “that you are talking about the horse?”

 

“I most certainly am NOT!” she responded, her eyes wide as saucers.

 

“Who IS he?” breathed Brangwyn.  “What a looker!”

 

“Must be Glorfindel,” said Thorin, trying not to gape.  “He’s a legendary elven warrior.”

 

“Wonder what he’s like in the sack?” continued Bris, in her normal blunt way.

 

“Well, if the rest of him’s as good as his face, I wouldn’t care,” giggled Brangwyn. “All I’d want him to do is lie there – I’d do the rest.”  Their partners’ faces looked like thunderclouds.  There would be words tonight.  But, the two dwarf women just linked arms and carried on giggling together.

 

“You can close your mouth now, Thorin,” snarled Thranduil to his beloved.  “He’s not _that_ jaw-dropping!”  And, as the herald blew his trumpet at the gates, they all descended to the courtyard below to receive their guests.

 

The two kings stood on the steps, their courtiers and friends surrounding them.  And, although Thorin knew that Thranduil was glaring at him – and he knew why – he couldn’t drag his eyes away from Glorfindel.  He had an overwhelming urge, he thought, to giggle together with Bris and Brangwyn because the elf lord was quite a sight.  He was sure that such fairness of face and form could not be found, nor had ever been found, on Middle-earth, not now nor through the centuries.

 

Glorfindel gracefully dismounted and flung back his mass of golden hair which, unlike the straight locks of most elves, had a slight wave to it and curled attractively about his face, falling almost to his waist.  It was the sort of hair that made you think about sex: you wanted to smell it, to bury your nose in it, to become entangled in it, to wind it around your naked body and feel its silkiness against your bare skin.  Thorin let out a little groan – which didn’t pass unnoticed.  Thranduil’s glare deepened.

 

And that face!  Never before had Thorin seen such beauty.  He was radiant!  And that wasn’t just a metaphor.  An other-worldly glow seemed to shine from him and you wanted to get as near to him as possible in order to bathe in that light.

 

On top of that, his white, gold-embroidered outfit hugged his manly frame tightly – a bit too tightly, thought the dwarven king as he heard the snorts of glee coming from the dwarven and elven ladies behind him.  Mind you, he had to be careful not to snort with pleasure himself as his eyes swept down to Glorfindel’s crotch.  “Look at that package!” blurted out the irrepressible Bris.  And Thorin felt like exclaiming along with her.

 

“Yes, very gratifying,” murmured Brangwyn, clinging ever more tightly to her friend’s arm.  “Can you imagine?”

 

Yes, they were all imagining and Thorin felt himself harden.  Thank Mahal he was wearing his flowing robes today.

 

The two elf lords stepped forward to greet the assembled group and Thranduil descended the stone steps and grasped Elrond by the arm.  “It’s good to see you again,” he said.  And then he nodded curtly to his companion: “Glorfindel!” he muttered.

 

The warrior gave him the sweetest smile and held out his hand which Thranduil was forced to take.  And, for many of those assembled there, this smile was the defining moment.  Ah, what would one not give for a smile like that?  Glorfindel was obviously beautiful both inside and out.

 

Elrond greeted Thorin with pleasure and then introduced Glorfindel.  “I’ve heard so many things about you,” said the elf.  There was that smile again and Thorin felt weak at the knees. And then Glorfindel took him firmly by the arm and looked deep into the dwarf’s eyes, his own even bluer than the dwarf’s, if that were possible.  The urge that Thorin had to pull him into an embrace and thrust his tongue between those finely moulded lips was overwhelming – but, with Thranduil breathing angrily down his neck, he showed restraint.

 

When the pair moved on to meet other members of the Company, Bris bent forward and whispered in Thorin’s ear: “I could bang that any time!”

 

Just what her king was thinking but he harrumphed and showed a proper response.  “I thought your heart was all Dwalin’s,” he said.

 

“And I thought that Thranduil was your One,” she grinned back.  “But a girl can dream, can’t she?”  Brangwyn was laughing over her shoulder: “I think the three of us will be made to pay for this tonight, won’t we?”

 

“Then I think the three of us might as well make the most of the evening,” Thorin winked at them.  There was a giggle of agreement.

 

Elrond and Glorfindel moved further on down the line.  When the elven warrior offered his hand to Dain, who normally loathed elves with a vengeance, the king seized it and, rather than shake it, brought it greedily to his wet lips and kissed it.  _Now, why didn’t I think of doing that?_ grinned Thorin to himself.  _The slimy old curmudgeon!_

“Ewww,” exclaimed a disgusted Brangwyn and Bris.

 

But, Glorfindel moved on unperturbed, obviously used by now to such unwanted attentions, and knelt down to greet Brangwyn’s young son, drawing from his sleeve a small, wooden toy.  Glorfindel was thus, thereafter, the child’s hero forever.  “Aww,” sighed Brangwyn.

 

“Woof!” muttered Bris.  “That’s how I like them – down on their knees.”

 

 _Mmm, yes, me too_ , thought Thorin.

 

Then, the guests were all taken by servants to their various rooms and, as Glorfindel disappeared off into the palace, it was as if the sun had set early.  “You could get a quick fuck in before dinner if you hurry,” snarled Thranduil tartly in Thorin’s ear.

 

“Don’t put ideas in my head,” Thorin growled back, completely failing to notice the hurt tone in the elven king’s voice.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt IV

 

“I’ll just go and greet any early guests in the dining-hall,” yelled Thorin through the door of the bathing room where Thranduil was getting ready for the evening’s feast.  And then he nipped out quickly before the elven king could stop him.  He would have just enough time to visit Glorfindel in his room, he thought, as he hastened down the corridors.  Perhaps he could get to know him a teensy bit better.  Thranduil had been sullen and withdrawn when they had gone back to their apartment.  It would doubtless all end in tears, as his sister, Dis, used to say, but perhaps he should get his money’s worth before the violent argument that was looming on the horizon actually happened.

 

He knocked on the door of the elf lord’s apartment and then let himself in.  Much to his annoyance, Dain was already there, standing very close to Glorfindel and holding his hand.  Glorfindel looked very relieved when the dwarf entered.

 

“Ah, come in, Thorin,” he said.  “I believe Dain was just leaving.”  A disgruntled and thwarted Lord of the Iron Hills stomped from the room.

 

Thorin smiled up at the elf.  “Looks like I came just in the nick of time,” he laughed.  “You know,” he continued, head on one side, “you have this odd effect on people.  Usually Dain absolutely loathes elves – and he has given Thranduil a hard time because of it – plus he’s definitely repulsed at the idea of a male/male relationship.  But, it looks as though he has had some kind of dramatic conversion on the road to your room.”

 

“I try to be kind,” smiled Glorfindel in return.

 

“But not _that_ kind, I hope,” grinned Thorin, both entertained and revolted at the thought of Dain pumping away on top of the beautiful elf.

 

“Perhaps you know,” said Glorfindel, pouring the dwarf a glass of wine and handing it to him, “that I met Thranduil when he was a very young prince.”  He paused for a moment and Thorin could see the memory in his eyes and, for the first time, he wondered what their relationship had been.  “I tried to be kind to him, too, you know,” and a look of amusement flashed across his face.  The dwarven king raised an eyebrow in askance and debated what that meant.  Surely, Thranduil would have told him if there had been something between the two?  But, there had been times when his lover had kept things from him.  The old anger and jealousy came back to him again.

 

Glorfindel took him gently by the hand and squeezed it.  _Was the elf being kind to him as well_?  “You know,” he said softly, “there are times when I wish I wasn’t as I am.”

 

Thorin gazed back at him for a moment, then abruptly put down his glass, made a tight little bow and left the room.

 

“ _Yes_ , pondered the elf wryly, _if I were other than I am – the good, the kind, the beautiful Glorfindel – then I would be fucking the dwarf right this minute._   But, instead, he had just done his best for Thranduil.  And he smiled sadly at the moments in his life that would never be because of his gifts that were also curses and which had been bestowed, unasked, upon him.

 

.o00o.

 

Pt V

 

An hour or so later, the dining-hall echoed to the sounds of merriment.  The Company managed to turn any elegant feast into a riot, thought Elrond with amusement as he remembered the time they had passed through Rivendell on their Quest.  Glorfindel was jammed very tightly between Brangwyn and Bris, their partners sat either side, rather cut out of things, whilst the two kings sat opposite.  _Good position from which to feast my eyes upon him_ , grinned Thorin to himself.

 

Glorfindel had indicated gently that nothing could be between them so he was getting nicely drunk and just enjoying the view.  Thranduil intended to rip off his head when they got back to their rooms anyway – he could see it in his jealous glances – and so he might as well tease him to the limit and make the slanging match and the possible punch on the nose worth it.

 

“So,” Elrond was saying to Bris, “I hear you are a tattooist in Erebor.  “How interesting.”  And being the well-mannered elf lord that he was, he managed to hide his distaste.

 

“Yes, that’s interesting,” added Glorfindel.  “Do you tattoo roses and birds on the shoulders of dwarven ladies?”

 

“No,” slurred Thorin coarsely.  “She tattoos swords and axes on dwarven cocks – and on elven cocks, too, here in Mirkwood.  It’s quite the fashion.”  The two elf lords couldn’t help the look of shock that passed over their faces.

 

“I pierce cocks as well,” supplied Bris, turning the screws.

 

“Does it hurt?” asked the elven warrior faintly, not quite sure what else to say.

 

Thorin leaned across the table.  “Perhaps you should try it.  You don’t know what you’ve missed until you’ve had a pierced and pearled cock shoved up your backside.  I’m sure there would be plenty of volunteers.”  And he gestured around the room at a whole pack of blushing young elves who would have pierced themselves from top to toe if they could have spent one night in Glorfindel’s bed, giving him a demonstration.

 

A pearled cock?” asked Glorfindel, more faintly still.

 

“Yes,” answered Bris.  “It’s where you cut little slits all up and down the cock and push pearls under the skin.  Good sensation for your partner when you fuck.”

 

The elf lord blinked very quickly.

 

“I’ll do it for you for free since you’re an honoured guest and famous an’ all,” she added graciously.  “But you’d have to supply your own pearls.  I think you’d need quite a few of them.”  And she laughingly leaned over and squeezed his prick.  “Thought so,” she said smugly, winking at Brangwyn.  The heir’s wife giggled hysterically.

 

“Can we all give an opinion on how many pearls would be needed?” leered Thorin.  “I’ve got experience because of Thranduil.”

 

“Thranduil’s had it done?” asked Glorfindel in disbelief.  It had been a very beautiful gesture by the elven king to show his love for his partner but Thorin made it sound obscene.  “Best fuck I’ve ever had,” boasted the dwarf, lolling back in his chair.  “Really hits the spot.”  Thranduil was beginning to boil with rage as the secrets of their bedroom were spilled out across the dining-table.  The elf pushed back his chair and marched out of the room.

 

“Oh-oh,” hiccupped Bris, who was also a little drunk.  “I think we’ve done it now.  Who’s going to get a smacked botty tonight, then?”  And she looked defiantly at a glowering Dwalin who was all but ready to throw her across his lap, pull up her skirts and smack her bottom in full view of the whole room.

 

“Er,” said Glorfindel, trying to finish the conversation as politely as possible.  “If I ever find my One, I shall keep your kind offer in mind.”  And then he turned the subject to their journey from Rivendell to Mirkwood.

 

“I shall kill you tonight,” hissed Young Thorin in his wife’s ear.  “Your behaviour has been appalling ever since Elrond’s arrival.”  Brangwyn merely tossed her curls.

 

After a short interlude, Elrond also pushed back his chair and politely asked to be excused.

 

“See!” whispered the prince fiercely.  “He’s taken offence.  You should be ashamed of yourself.”

 

But, Elrond had gone in search of Thranduil to see what he could do to pour oil on troubled waters.  And he found him out on the balcony, quietly staring up at the the frosty stars.   Elrond leaned on the parapet next to him.  “I don’t let him out often” he finally said ruefully.  “He seems to cause trouble wherever he goes.  I can’t imagine why.”

 

“It’s because he’s so incredibly beautiful,” replied Thranduil dully.  “Everyone he meets is drawn to him and wants him.”

 

“And have you ever considered how much of a burden it is to him?  How it is almost impossible for him to make a genuine or meaningful relationship?  No wonder he fought with that Balrog: he was in despair and reckless of his own life.”  Thranduil didn’t answer but Elrond knew he was listening.  “Do you remember when you first saw him?” the elven king gave a slight nod.  “You were totally overwhelmed – as are all who see him for the first time.  Weren’t you prepared for Thorin’s reaction?”

 

“I expected the worst,” grunted the king.

 

“And he lived down to your expectations,” laughed the elf lord.  “But, he sees Glorfindel as some beautiful work of art, something to gaze at, a tactile sculpture, perhaps, something to hold and admire and desire for its beauty – but not something to love.  It’s you that he loves – and you know this, don’t you?”

 

The king gave another slight nod, then thanked his guest politely and made his exit from the balcony.

 

Elrond sighed and leaned back again on the parapet, waiting until Glorfindel appeared out of the shadows.  “Well, you did your best,” said the famous hero.

 

“It must be exhausting being you,” said Elrond quietly, “beating them all off and keeping your temper at the same time.”

 

“Beating them all off except you,” replied Glorfindel with a smile.  “Life becomes much easier once you have found someone to love.”  And he raised his perfect lips for a kiss.

 

.o00o.

 

Thorin was sprawled completely naked on the bed.  He always found it easier to manipulate the elven king when he was naked.  Trouble is, the elf knew what he was up to.

 

“Ah, my love,” he murmured throatily to the elven king as he banged into the room, “have you come for a good fuck?”

 

“Of course,” said the elf, throwing off his clothes.  “What other use do you serve?”

 

The cold bluntness of his reply shocked the dwarf as did the peremptory and brutal way in which he was taken.  He had been expecting a violent row, ending in a passionate reconciliation, ringed about with countless apologies on both sides.  But this was something else.  Thranduil climbed off him immediately it was all over and began to pull on his breeches.

 

“Where are you going?” asked Thorin in despair.

 

“Perhaps,” said Thranduil, I shall go and find Glorfindel.  I developed a passion for him when I first met him as a young elf, you know.”  He made his way for the door but Thorin leaped from the bed and tried to bar his way.  “What’s the matter?” asked the elven king coldly.  “Didn’t you get what you wanted – my pearled and pierced cock up your backside?  Perhaps Glorfindel would like to experience it too, just as you suggested.”

 

Thorin stared at him for a long moment and then whispered, “I’m sorry.  He just – he just – overwhelmed me.”  And he stood aside with his head bowed.

 

Thranduil leaned his forehead against the door remembering how he had been overwhelmed that time too and thinking of his conversation with Elrond.  He sighed.  “Perhaps we should go back to bed,” he said, “and try again.”

 

“I think that might be a good idea,” murmured a relieved Thorin, taking his love by the hand and drawing him gently towards the bedroom where so many of their differences were usually resolved.

 

They took it slowly this time.  “I was jealous,” murmured Thranduil as he moved gently within the dwarf.

 

“So was I,” said Thorin, “especially after Elrond told me of the obsessive passion you had for Glorfindel when you first met him.”

 

“It was such a long time ago,” said the elf tiredly.  “So perhaps all this business with Glorfindel is yet another episode in our story which needs to be consigned to history.  Now just shut up and let me fuck you in peace.”

 

“You’re so eloquent,” gasped Thorin as his fingers dug into the elf’s slender backside and he came.

 

.o00o.

 

All over Mirkwood that night couples were having arguments over Glorfindel which eventually resolved into satisfying screws.

 

And, back in his guest apartment, Elrond lay tangled in Glorfindel’s glorious hair.  “Ah, my love,” he sighed, stroking the elf lord’s face, “everyone would like a piece of you but it’s only me that has you – I’m very glad to say.”  And he stretched languorously.

 

“By the way,” he added sleepily, “that was an intriguing idea about you having your cock pierced and pearled.”

 

Glorfindel was suddenly on the alert.  “I would much rather you had it done, my love.  After all, Thorin was keen for me to be the recipient of its effects.”

 

“Well, I’m not into the sort of pain it would involve,” said Elrond sharply.

 

“And neither am I.  Besides, it wouldn’t cost as much to have yours done – fewer pearls.”

 

“Boasting again!” snapped the elf lord.

 

Glorfindel turned over indignantly and pulled the sheet up to his chin.  “And you can get off my hair – you’re hurting me.”

 

Elrond carefully disentangled himself from the strands of golden hair and, thumping his pillow, turned to face away from his beloved.  _Why was it_ , he thought, _as he drifted off to sleep, that it was always legendary warriors and bad-tempered dwarves who brought so much trouble into his life?_

 

.o00o.

 

**LOL, good for Elrond.  There’s someone for everyone, isn’t there?  And he deserved to have his bit on the side after his beloved wife, Celebrian, was tortured by orcs and sailed into the West, leaving him sad and lonely.  But, shush!  Don’t tell his children, though.**

**Glorfindel plays a similar disruptive role in my other long series, _All About Thorin_.  I apologise to any readers of those stories who might have recognised some similarities.  The elven warrior plays an important role in Tolkien’s original LotR story: it is he, not Arwen, who saves Frodo from the Nine Riders as the hobbits head for Rivendell.   PJ cuts him out completely, much to the annoyance of Glorfindel fans.  And, yes, he is a very splendid character!**

**If you want to read the Thorinduil stories which are about the unfortunate incident over the library table, then take a look at:**

**_The Kings and the Sex Addiction_ **

**and**

**_The Kings and the Seduction_.**

**Happy reading and thank you very much for all your interaction!  I enjoy hearing from you.**

 

 

 


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